


Ch-Ch-Changes by Jassy

by Jassy



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jassy/pseuds/Jassy





	Ch-Ch-Changes by Jassy

Sam glared through dripping (too long) bangs at his gaping brother. His gaping, soon-to-be-dead, brother. “What part,” he began, as evenly as he possibly could, considering the overall situation and the way his altered voice pissed him off even more, “of ‘cursed pond’ escaped your attention, Dean?”

Dean waved his hands vaguely. “I, uh, sort of thought it wasn’t, you know, real? Um....”

Sam dragged himself the rest of the way out of the pond, saturated clothes almost falling off of him. “Didn’t think it was real.” He nodded to himself, looking down at his body, outlined by his clothes. The t-shirt that clung to full, heavy breasts, nipples peaked with chill. The small waist and rounded hips that couldn’t really hold up his now far too large jeans. His shoes were gone, his feet nothing like big enough to hang on to them. What he should do, is shove his brother in the pond to retrieve them. See what kind of woman _he’d_ make. “You know, considering recent history, you’d think you’d be a little more careful about anything resembling a curse? I mean, there was the whole M &M thing, then that cursed pyramid—which I am so smashing after this, you have no idea—you’d think even the rumor of a hint of a whisper of a curse would make you more careful.”

“Well, it’s not like **I** jumped in the pond,” Dean defended himself.

“No,” Sam agreed, eyes glittering. “No, you didn’t jump in the pond. You pushed **me** in. And now I’m a woman. Ever hear the phrase ‘hell hath no fury’? I’m thinking we should verify that. How ‘bout you?”

Dean, perhaps wisely, backed up. “Now, listen. Uh, there’s a reservation not far from here, Sam. We can go ask around there, you know, find some really old Indian guy...”

“Native American,” Sam corrected crisply. Because really, now was not the time for Dean to be forgetting political correctness. Any slander against the female gender right now was going to earn him a metric fuckload of trouble.

“Right, Native American. An, ah, elderly one. With, you know, wisdom. One who maybe knows how to break this. Um. Yeah.”

“Are you staring at my tits?” Sam demanded, realizing that Dean’s eyes were well below chin level in their direction. He crossed his arms, covering his boobs as best he could. Which, considering their size in comparison to his rather scrawny arms.....

Dean’s eyes snapped back to his face. “Nope. Not me. Hey, why don’t I go get you some dry clothes?” Without waiting for a reply, Dean turned tail and ran for the car. Sam swiped the hair out of his face impatiently and followed. He had to hold his jeans up as he walked, the hems flapping around his feet with wet squelch-y sounds. They were his favorite jeans, too. They’d probably be full of holes from walking on them.

When he joined Dean at the car, he was presented with dry clothes at arm’s length. A pair of Dean’s jeans and one of his own shirts. Sam swiped them away, then glared until Dean turned around. Sam wiggled and shimmied until his jeans were puddled around his feet, keeping his shirt on because he was pretty sure Dean was watching his reflection in the window. He pulled Dean’s jeans up over his hips, scowling over the fact that they were still too big. He was now shorter than his shrimpy brother! With an angry growl (which came out, God help him, _kittenish_ ) he finished changing. He thumped Dean on the back with a ridiculously small hand. “Let’s go. And so help me, if you offend anyone, anyone at all, and put my finding the counter to this at risk? I’m gonna go Lorena Bobbit on you,” he vowed. Dean flinched, one hand going protectively to his groin.

“That’s harsh, Sam. I mean, c’mon! I didn’t think there was anything to the rumor, and we were just goofing around.....” He trailed off, shrinking a little under Sam’s gaze. “How about this? We’ll go, and I’ll just keep my mouth shut?”

“That’s the first good idea you’ve had all day.” Sam marched around him to the passenger side and got in, leaving Dean to pick up his sopping, pond-smelly clothes.

The drive to the reservation was made in silence. Dean pulled over and asked the first person they saw, a young woman walking a dog, who they should speak to about the cursed pond. The woman laughed, but directed them to the hair salon, and the old woman who ran it, Maggie Grayfeather. Dean thanked her, on his very best behavior, and drove to the hair salon. Sam made him wait in the car when he went in.

There was only one person inside. A woman, possibly fifty, possibly one hundred and fifty, years old. She eyed him up and down, taking in his ill-fitting clothes, his long wet hair, the vaguely fishy smell accompanying him. “Boy, you fell in the pond,” she declared, shaking her head.

“Sort of,” he admitted. “My brother and I, we investigate things like curses and other supernatural events, try to deal with them. Ghosts, poltergeists, demons, that kind of thing. But apparently, he didn’t believe in this particular curse, and thought it would be funny to push me in. Can you tell me anything about the curse?”

Maggie put aside her Vogue magazine and gestured to one of the salon chairs. “Have a seat. Let’s see if we can do something about that mess you call hair, and I’ll tell you about it.” Since the smell wasn’t exactly pleasant, Sam readily agreed. She tilted the chair back, hanging his head over one of the sinks to wash his hair. “About oh, a hundred seventy years ago, there was a woman. White gal, ugly as the day is long. Had a rough life, couldn’t get married, had to live with her folks her whole life. Kids used to make fun of her, but it was the men that really got to her. Folks can be pretty cruel to those that are less fortunate. Well, her folks finally died, leaving her the homestead. Rich, profitable farm they had. She controlled it, with her folks gone, and thought she’d finally get herself a husband. One who’d care a little less about her looks, and a little more for what she’d bring him. She let it be known she was in the market to wed, had a few men step up to court her. Unfortunately for her, the one she picked really didn’t want to have to deal with her, and the gossip that’d follow him around, once he’d married her. So one night, not long after they were married, he dragged her out to that pond you got pushed into. He threw her in, and kept throwing her in, until she was too tired to fight her way out anymore. With her dying breath, she laid out the curse. Any man foolish enough to drink from, or swim in that pond, would know the hardship of being female.” Maggie shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his hair as she righted the chair. She blotted his hair dry, flung the towel, and began to comb through the waist-length mass. “Now, there’s been one or two silly enough, like your brother, to not take the curse seriously. None of ‘em ever found a way to break it.”

“None?” Sam squeaked. “Not even one? I mean, being a woman isn’t a bad thing, but I’m, y’know, a guy.”

“True. I wouldn’t fancy being made into a man myself.”

“Exactly,” Sam said, relieved. “So, can you think of any way that I might be able to break the curse? Any hints or rumors....”

“Well, there’s some that say that it’s a life curse, and if you can die and come back, it’ll be broke.”

“And...what do you say?”

“I say, and my grandmother before me, that if a guy can learn to appreciate all the female form has to offer, if he can get to liking it, the curse will be broken. The whole point of it was to make a man suffer. He ain’t suffering, he ain’t cursed.” Maggie finished combing out his hair and ran her fingers through it. “You sure got lucky, boy. I’d always figured the curse would be more effective if she’d made it so’s a man were just as ugly as she’d been when he got cursed. Instead, they all seem to become the woman they’d have been if they’d been born that way. And you, boy, you’d have been born beautiful.”

Sam ducked his head. “I’ve seen pictures of my mom. I always thought she was the prettiest woman ever. Dad used to say I took after her.”

“I’ll bet.” Maggie pulled his hair into a simple braid, tying it off with a beaded leather cord. “There you go. Wash the rest of you off, get some clothes that fit, and you’ll be driving the men wild.” She spun the chair so Sam was facing a mirror. Sam cocked his head, studying himself. He had a heart-shaped face, shown off by the pulled back hair. Wide, slightly tilted eyes and an upturned nose gave him a mischievous air. When he smiled, the dimples only added to the effect. And that was just his face. Add in what could be seen of his body through the too big clothes, and Sam figured he was pretty close to a knock out. A tank top, maybe, and a nice short skirt.....

“Learn to appreciate all the female form has to offer?” he murmured. Maggie nodded, eyes glinting with humor. “Tell me, Maggie, any clue as to whether I’m, uh, fertile? I mean, I really don’t think I’m in the market for kids if something unfortunate should occur while I’m _learning_.”

“Oh honey, I don’t think you should worry too much. Part of the tale was that she wanted children. I doubt she’d give something like that to someone she was punishing.” Maggie patted his shoulder. “In fact, I’m sure of it. If you’re stuck like this long enough, you’ll get your monthly and no mistake, but nothing will ever come of it.”

Sam stood up, searching in his pocket for the wallet that wasn’t there. “You’ve been a big help, Maggie. Just let me run to the car, and I’ll pay for the shampoo.”

“Nah. Forget it. You’ve given me a damn good chuckle, boy. You let me know if you break the curse, and how, and we’ll call it even.” She shooed him out the door.

Sam decided, between the front door and the car, that he wasn’t going to tell Dean what he had in mind. No, let his brother sweat. He climbed in, slamming the door behind himself. “Drive,” he ordered curtly. “Drive, and find a mall, so I can get clothes that fit.”

“That bad?” Dean asked, starting the car.

“You have no clue, Dean. None. Now shut up and drive.” His eyes cut sideways. “And keep in mind which of us is the insomniac and is also better with the knives.”

“Right.” Dean swallowed and stepped on the gas.

Sam made Dean wait in the car again while he ventured into the mall on his own. He got a few strange looks, thanks to his current attire. He dredged up long ago memories of Jess, and the times she’d coerced him into going shopping with her. They proved helpful now, as he needed no help in figuring out his size. For anything. He also had a pretty good idea of what kind of clothes he wanted, so all told, his shopping venture didn’t take more than an hour. He returned to where Dean was waiting, somewhat less than patiently, in the car. With a wave of his hand, he permitted Dean to start driving. Dean put as much distance between them and the cursed pond as a full tank of gas and a lead foot could get him.

When they stopped for the night, Sam pointedly told the desk clerk that they needed two beds. The clerk, probably figuring they were in the middle of a marital dispute, shot Dean a sympathetic look. It figured. Naturally, a man would assume it was the female’s fault. In spite of Dean’s obvious hangdog manner, which just screamed guilt. Sam shooed Dean to the bar down the street, telling him to go ‘make himself useful and hustle them a few bucks’. Dean slunk out of the room, permitting Sam to go nuts with his purchases in private.

He started with a shower to get rid of the lingering pond stink. Then it was the cream hair remover, which stunk all by itself, and created an itchy burn, but left his skin bare and smooth and extra sensitive. He lotioned. He pulled his hair into a high ponytail. He slid on the white lace bikini panties and matching push up bra. He slid on the black pleated skirt. It wasn’t quite a mini-skirt, but it was close. He pulled on the white button down silk blouse and left the top three buttons undone. He put on the knee length socks and the black strappy shoes. They weren’t high heels, because he frankly didn’t want to break an ankle, but they worked. He added a touch of mascara and eye shadow, then looked himself over in the mirror. Oh yeah, naughty school girl look achieved. He turned and bent, head craned back to observe how far he could go before his underwear actually became visible. Just far enough, he decided, that he could play a game of pool. He threw some cash and a credit card into the small purse he’d reluctantly bought and headed out.

Dean didn’t see him when he first walked into the bar, too absorbed in his pool game. However, he had to be the only one who didn’t. The other patrons noticed his entrance, either happily or jealously, depending upon gender. Sam strolled up to the bar and perched as demurely as was possible in his current get-up, and ordered a beer. The bartender was a tall guy who leaned over the bar, looking straight down his blouse. Sam crossed his arms under his tits, pushing them up, and didn’t get carded. He turned to check his brother’s progress in time to see Dean win and stuff a wad of cash into his pocket. Dean turned and did a priceless double take when he saw him. Sam let a slow, wicked smile curl his lips, pleased to see Dean readjust himself in his jeans.

Sam hopped off the stool and approached the table. “Who won?”

Dean’s opponent jerked a thumb at Dean. “He did. Buy me a drink to soothe my ego?”

“Aw,” Sam simpered. “I bet it was just luck.” He heard Dean choke a little. “I bet you’re really the better player.”

The guy, six feet of blond hair and blue eyed muscle, possibly a body builder, grinned. “You know it, sweetheart. I’m Alex.”

“Samantha.” They shook hands. “I play a little. Want a new game?” He completely ignored Dean fuming silently off to the side.

“Sure. But not the same stakes, of course.”

“Why not?”

“We were playing for money, Samantha.”

“And you’re cleaned out?” Sam widened his eyes and shot a dirty look at Dean. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“No, no! I just wouldn’t want to....”

“Well then, same stakes.” Sam chose a pool stick, letting his fingers trail suggestively along it’s length. Alex’s eyes sort of crossed and he nodded without really thinking about it.

The game was brutally short. Every time Sam bent over, Alex checked out either his ass or his tits. He was so distracted, he couldn’t sink even one ball, leaving Sam to clear the table without having to really work for it. He forked over the cash with no evidence of ill humor, and tried to guide Sam to the bar for fresh drinks. Dean, however, wasn’t going to stand for that, having been an equal observer to Sam’s performance.

“Well, hey! Looks like you proved it wasn’t just luck for me. How about a game? You and me, just-friendly, like?” Dean caught his arm, rubbing his thumb along the inside of his elbow. It was amazingly distracting, so Sam pulled his arm back casually.

“Sure thing. Let’s see what you’ve got, hot stuff.” Grinning, apparently thinking all was forgiven, Dean racked up the balls and generously offered Sam first break. Sam went all out this time, bending over further while his ass was to Dean, ‘accidentally’ unbuttoning another button, even half laying on the table to line up a shot, one leg hoisted on the edge of the table to give him a longer reach. Every time he walked behind his brother, he made sure to brush his tits against Dean’s back. Still, he let Dean win, although just barely. “Aw, nuts,” Sam pouted.

“It was a close game, Sam. You’ve got some moves on you,” Dean leered.

“Thanks. I just love getting my hands around a stick. Wanna play again?”

“As good as you handle a—stick? You bet.”

Sam smiled, tongue curled behind his teeth. “How about we up the ante, hm? Say-hundred to the winner?” He placed his money on the edge of the table.

Dean shrugged easily. “If that’s what the lady wants, that’s what the lady gets. I’m all about giving women what they want.” He put out his own money, and set up another game.

Sam let him break this time, standing with his pool stick braced against the floor, straddling it. Dean scratched the break when he gave his hips a well timed shimmy. “Bummer,” Sam commented. Dean narrowed his eyes at him, catching on that this wasn’t just a hustle or foreplay. He tried to retaliate when it was Sam’s turn, hands going above his head in a full body stretch that tightened his shirt across his chest. Sam, however, had seen it before. Further, he was still pissed as all hell, which in this body seemed to help suppress the lust that usually rose up when Dean showed off. He gave his brother a scornful little smile and sank four balls in a row without even trying. He missed the fifth on purpose, and dragged one of the tall chairs closer while Dean eyed up the table for a shot. He perched on it, stick once again braced between his legs, and curled one leg around it. As Dean bent for his shot, his eyes predictably flicked up to check, and Sam rubbed his leg up and down the stick. Dean scratched again.

Sam hopped down to take his shot. As he crossed in front of Dean this time, he brushed his ass up against Dean’s groin. Almost a mistake, as the feel of Dean’s erection against his bottom brought back a whole lot of very good memories. Dean hissed audibly, so his own sudden stomach clench wasn’t wasted. Sam reminded himself that he was a woman because of Dean, meaning he had no dick, and focused on his shot.

He sank every last ball without pause, then tucked both his money and Dean’s into the band of his skirt. “Tough luck,” he tossed off, sauntering back to the bar. Alex grinned at him, obviously not holding a grudge, and bought him a beer. Sam smiled as flirtatiously as he could and licked the rim of the bottle.

Dean hung around, staying on the edge of the crowd that slowly gathered around Sam. He was seething, Sam could see it. So could a lot of others, many of whom made it a point to look and then laugh mock discreetly behind their hands. Sam was having a blast. He didn’t usually flirt, unless it was with Dean, and doing so as a woman gave the experience a whole new twist. He didn’t stop until Alex got drunk enough, or simply sure enough, to start letting his hands wander. That was further than Sam wanted to play things, so he excused himself. For a second, Alex looked angry enough that Sam got a grip on an empty bottle, just in case, but the guy let it go. Sam walked out with a wiggle to his hips that lifted the hem of his skirt a little.

Not surprisingly, Dean caught up to him at the room. He unlocked the door, let Sam get inside, shut the door, then shoved him against it. “You really are a bitch, you know that, Sammy?” he growled, pushing a leg between Sam’s thighs.

“Thanks to you, yes.” Sam shoved him away. “Get a grip, Dean.”

“I’m gonna. On you.” Dean reached for the buttons on his blouse. The ones that were actually still buttoned, anyway. Sam slapped his hand away. “Oh, come on!”

“No. You made your bed, big brother. Now you’re gonna lay in it. Alone.” Sam shoved past him, headed for the bathroom. Dean followed him. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

“Considering the show you put on tonight, I’m having a hard time taking that seriously. What were you doing, if not getting me worked up?”

Sam smiled sweetly. “Getting in touch with my feminine side,” he purred. Then slammed the door in Dean’s face. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, then changed into the skimpy little nightgown he’d left there. Dean was naked and stroking himself when he came out. Sam felt his stomach clench again, and a peculiar warmth curl low. His pussy became damp, and he had the urge to slide his fingers down there, really get familiar with his (hopefully) temporary goods. Female arousal was a little easier to hide, though, so all he did was shoot Dean an unimpressed look and crawl into the other bed. He settled down with every sign of going to sleep and listened. Dean kept it up for a little while, but eventually, when it seemed to him that Sam really was asleep, he gave up with a low curse and stomped into the bathroom. Smiling smugly to himself, Sam drifted off.

The next five days was more of the same. Wherever they went, even in the car, Sam displayed himself. He flirted in public, with any guy that looked even slightly interested in him, and held Dean off in private. Dean had been reduced to actual begging by the end of the fifth day. Still, Sam said no. Privately, however, he was long past tired of waiting. His solitary explorations in the shower, while fun, weren’t anything on what he suspected Dean could do for him. He was pretty sure that the cure lay there. He’d had fun. He could fully appreciate the power that an attractive woman could wield over men ruled by their downstairs brains. Maybe even like it. But he still missed his dick, and the only way he’d stop missing it, was for Dean to demonstrate how much women had it better. Preferably before he got his first period.

When he dressed the morning of the sixth day, he did so carefully. The pleated skirt was pulled out again, this time paired with a tight, low cut tank top. He snatched the keys from Dean and sauntered out to the car. It was his turn to drive, and he planned to find a good spot to pull over.

He found it in a farmer’s hay field. It was unattended, and the hay tall enough to hide the car from view. Dean shouted, apoplectic that Sam would drive over the rutted field with his car. Sam slid a hand along his thigh, right up to his groin. Dean hardened instantly, but gave him a suspicious look. “I’m not teasing this time, Dean.” Grinning, he slid out of the car and walked to the front. Dean followed so quickly, Sam wondered if he’d learned to teleport. Laughing, Sam reached up to draw him down for a kiss. Dean latched on, tongue delving deep into his mouth, hands going to cup his ass. He was lifted onto the hood of the car and spread his legs invitingly. Dean pulled back to yank his tank top off. Sam had gone bra-less, and leaned back on his elbows, showing off. Then Dean had his mouth and hands all over his tits, and showing off was the furthest thing from his mind.

It was fast. It was messy. It was also damn good. Sam was left with his skirt hiked around his waist, his panties hanging off one foot, and six feet of almost comatose brother slumped over him between his legs. Also, still female. Sam minded a lot less. He prodded his brother. “Come on. We should get going.”

“Hmph, okay.” Extremely mellow, Dean stood up to straighten his clothes. Sam laid there a minute longer, until Dean’s eyes swept over him and darkened again. Sam slid off the hood, wobbling a little. He pulled his panties back into place and smoothed his skirt. He had to hunt a little for his tank top, finding it somehow in back of the car. When he got behind the wheel again, he made a face. He could really use a shower, and he was rather-tender, down there. Oh, well. It had been worth it.

Dean couldn’t keep his hands to himself after that. Sam almost drove them off the road, thanks to clever fingers up his skirt. Sam pulled into a town long before they would normally have stopped for the night. Grinning, smug beyond belief, Dean went to get them a room. One with only one bed. A bed that they didn’t make it to, because Sam slammed the door, put his back to it, and grabbed Dean.

Getting fucked against a door was even more fun as a woman than as a man. Easier, too. They moved to the bed. Then the shower. Then, because Sam was feeling creative, the armchair. Then it was back to the bed, where Dean spent an hour with his face between Sam’s legs, putting that mouth to a much better use than talking. By the time morning rolled around, they were both completely spent, and Sam wasn’t worried in the least about changing back.

Naturally, he woke up male. He eyed up his insufferably smug brother. “You know what? I think we should head back to that pond.”

“Say what now?”

“Sure. I mean, considering all the fun I got to have, it seems only fair you get to try it.” His eyes swept Dean from head to toe. “Although I really doubt you’ll end up half as hot as I did.”

“Oh, don’t even try that with me. I would so make a hotter woman than you did. We both know it, so I don’t have to prove it,” Dean scoffed. Sam just smiled.


End file.
